


we want to keep smiling

by segyeros (nuages)



Series: i believe in you, you believe in me [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), TWICE (Band)
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuages/pseuds/segyeros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sometimes, tzuyu has to remind herself, it’s okay to miss home too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we want to keep smiling

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to kim for looking over this and (unintentionally) making it happen in the first place.

i.  
  
sometimes tzuyu bites her tongue when the words slip, when sounds that ring foreign in her ears but feel familiar on her lips run away from her. _remember where you are_ , she needs to remind herself. _this isn’t home_.  
  
home is far away now, three hours and an ocean apart away, and her family is not the one she was born into. now it’s a band of sisters, eight girls who spend every moment of the day with her, who communicate with her in a tongue that’s not her own, one that she’s spent far too much time learning and embedding onto herself that she can’t afford to make a mistake.  
  
it’s a different set of rules and a different frame of mind. this isn’t her playing field. she needs to survive.  
  
(but sometimes tzuyu lets the words fall anyway, lets them fill her ears to comfort her when her mind refuses her body sleep, and they remind her of her mother’s sweet voice, wrapped around lullabies and gentle encouragement, of summers walking the streets and snippets of conversation passing her by, barely understood but momentarily so, and that moment of reprieve is enough. it’s enough to make her tiny heart stop longing for something when it’s headed somewhere else, for a little while.)  
  
(she wishes it could do more.)  
  
ii.  
  
sometimes tzuyu doesn’t bat an eyelash when they spout their vitriol.  
  
_she’s pretty, but how is she going to speak on shows? ㅋㅋㅋ_  
  
_pd-nim should just let her face do the talking._  
  
_jyp’s next it girl ㅋㅋㅋ more like jyp’s next disappointment._  
  
she knows better than to heed to the words of people who spend far too much time online and feel the need to fill the spaces of internet message boards with hate and negativity. she’s good, she’ll get better, she’ll be at her best. she can hold a conversation. she can read a script. she’s not hopeless, and she refuses to be weak when she isn’t. they’ll see.  
  
(but sometimes tzuyu cries herself to sleep at night, her head cradled against nayeon’s chest as the older girl whispers softly into her ear. _you are capable_ , she tells tzuyu. _so much more than what people think of you_. nayeon sings her a lullaby to sleep and even if it’s not the one she wants she takes it anyway. it feels like her mother’s warm touch, echoes softly like her gentle tone, and it’s enough. it’s enough to put back together the pieces of her tiny heart that break every time they remind her she’s not really welcome here, not like she wants to be, and it’s enough that she can wake fresh and start a new day with the pain of yesterday in the back of her mind.)  
  
iii.  
  
(sometimes tzuyu wishes she didn’t have to feel like a stranger in her own body, but she knows there’s nothing about that one that she can do.)  
  
iv.  
  
backstage is always hectic right before performances, so it’s a wonder his voice manages to carry itself right through the crowd of people and into her ears, but she supposes it’s not really the volume of the words, but the way they are delivered.  
  
“祝贺,” the boy says when he approaches and tzuyu doesn’t recognize him but she replies with “谢谢” anyway, a reflex she thought she buried long ago coming to light. she raises the tips of her fingers to her mouth, a different reflex altogether.  
  
he smiles at her. “still getting used to it?” tzuyu feels intimidated by his stare, and she needs to find her members now, they’ll be on soon. “wen junhui,” the boy says. “seventeen. i figured i should meet the new member of china-line... or chinese? mandarin? i...” and he stumbles over his words in such an adorable manner that it makes her snort. it feels weird not being the one at a loss in communication, but she thanks him in her head for that brief comfort. he decides to interject the humourous moment by returning to the topic at hand. "you're from taiwan, right?"

"yes," she says nodding, understanding now where this situation is going and feeling relieved. the way he speaks mandarin so confidently suddenly reminds her of home, much the same way she would brandish the language with her family and friends. it’s been so long since she could do that.  
  
“minghao! come over here,” he shouts, and she turns to where he’s beckoning another boy to come over, this one much younger, wide eyes and friendly smile. he approaches bouncing on the balls of his feet and greets her immediately, a hello and congratulations in a tone even more native than junhui’s. she feels like before she left for south korea, before all of this—performing, being beautiful and charming, being an idol—became her life, and it’s unnerving and exciting all at the same time.  
  
an older man calls the two boys’ over, the familiar but foreign dialect popping through their little bubble and making it disappear around them like a ghost in the wind. minghao bids her goodbye and runs over, but junhui stays for a second longer. “tell your manager to contact our manager. i know a few people and a few places. you should come with us sometime.”  
  
he places a hand on her shoulder, and that one touch reassures her more than she could ever do talking to herself in the mirror. “congratulations again on your debut, and don’t worry, you’re doing great.”  
  
“谢谢” she slips in one more time, lets herself relish this moment she gets to say it without having a microphone stuffed in her face and a nation on the weight of her shoulders. he nods. “you aren’t alone, tzuyu.” like that, he disappears into the crowd, and just as soon as he leaves chaeyoung is by her side. “you okay?”  
  
she nods, a genuine smile on her lips. “i’m okay.”  
  
v.  
  
sometimes tzuyu looks in the mirror and tells herself in korean that she’s okay, that she’ll survive, that she won’t cry. her hands glide over her skin—someone who’s made it this far and who’s willing to go further—and she falls in love with who she is now over and over again. she sings, quietly and then louder, traditional korean trot ballads and modern korean pop songs that she learns more and more of everyday, and when they echo in the bathroom and reverberate in her ears they feel less like a foreign element and more like the home she’s building for herself, the home that she shares with eight girls and a whole number of fans who have embraced her and everything she brings to their little world.  
  
sometimes, tzuyu has to remind herself, it’s okay to build a new home.  
  
(but sometimes tzuyu looks in the mirror and tells all this to herself in mandarin too. her hands glide over her skin—someone who’s been through so much and who wonders how much more she can take—and she misses who she was over and over again. she sings, shakily and then steadily, the chinese lullabies her mother used to sing her and the songs she grew up listening to on the radio, and when they echo in the bathroom and reverberate in her ears they feel less like a foreign element, and more like the home she once had, the home she shared with all her family and friends in taiwan who embraced her and everything she added to their little world.  
  
she tells jihyo she wants to facetime with her mom soon. jihyo nods and tells her to say when, so that they can give her the time she needs. she smiles.  
  
sometimes, tzuyu has to remind herself, it’s okay to miss home too.)

**Author's Note:**

> 祝贺 = congratulations  
> 谢谢 = thank you
> 
> title taken from the s.h.e song 保持微笑, not much correlation besides me listening to it when i wrote this.


End file.
